Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced

R.J. Garcia

Description

#1 Bestseller on Kobo and Category Bestseller on Amazon! 



Mystery surrounds the town of Summertime, Indiana, where fifteen-year-old Tommy Walker and his little sister are sent to live with relatives they’ve never met. Tommy soon makes friends with Finn Wilds, a rebellious local who lives with his volatile and abusive stepfather, who also happens to be the town’s sheriff. 



Finn invites Tommy to late night meetings in the woods, where Tommy gets to know two girls. He forms a special and unique connection with both girls. The meetings become a place where the kids, who don’t fit in at school, or home can finally belong. As the group of friends begin to unravel clues to a cold case murder and kidnapping— they learn the truth is darker and closer than they ever imagined. Even if they live to tell, will anyone believe them?

Sujets

• Ghosts
• Aliens, el regreso
• Young-adult fiction

Informations

• Publié par: The Parliament House
• Date de parution: 01 mai 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9788827573075
• Langue: English

Extrait

Nocturnal Meetings of the Misplaced


R.J. Garcia
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously.

THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE
www.parliamenthousepress.com

ISBN: 9788827573075

An imprint of Machovi Productions Inc.
NOCTURNAL MEETINGS OF THE MISPLACED. Copyright ©2018 by Ronda Garcia. All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America.

Cover design by Shayne Leighton

Edited by C.K. Brooke, David Rochelero, Beaird Glover
Created with Vellum
This book is dedicated to my sweet, amazing mom who always believed in my crazy dreams. The world isn’t the same place without you.
Contents



1. The Drive

2. An Invitation

3. Introductions

4. Nocturnal Meetings

5. Other than Saturday

6. The Letter

7. Hate

8. Laney Serel

9. Scream

10. The Ride

11. What Can Go Wrong

12. Tommy

13. The Good, the Bad, and the Interesting

14. Infatuation

15. Silence

16. The Dance

17. Darker Hours

18. Clutter

19. A Cabin in the Woods

20. Cake

21. Loving You

22. Where R We?

23. At Night

24. Where R U?

25. Bad News

26. The Hospital

27. A Bad Idea

28. Words

29. Held Hostage

30. Talk to Me

31. My Return

32. The Fourth of July

33. The Rescue

34. The Alpha

35. Questions

36. The Cold

37. To Grandmother’s House

38. The Discovery

39. A Happy Place

40. Silence’s Mother

41. When Evening Comes

42. The Haunted Lady

43. What Followed

44. You’re Nowhere I Know

45. Secrets and Shadows

46. The Unexpected

47. Unprepared

48. Goodbyes

49. Saturday Night

50. Sfs

51. The Phantom Van

52. It’s Time

53. Hurry

54. The House of Cards

55. The End Game

56. Waiting

57. The Good Part


About the Author

Thank You For Reading

Acknowledgments

The Parliament House
Chapter 1

The Drive

Present
I was alone in a small windowless room with four white walls, sitting at a table, on one of those metal chairs not designed for comfort. I could feel every second, knowing if I looked nervous I seemed guilty, and if I was too calm, I was a run-of-the-mill sociopath.
Now and then, I glanced up at a small black camera mounted on top of the wall. Its little demonic eye beamed down on me. I thought of giving it the finger but decided against it. Finally, I rested my elbows on the table and held my head with my hands. My ankle throbbed, and my butt went numb. I had signed some paper saying my caseworker didn’t have to be present during questioning and wondered if I had signed my life away.
After almost an hour the door flew open. The detective with a hulk nose entered, in uniform. I noticed the star on his lapel. He had a wannabe superhero look, with blocky side-parted hair and broad shoulders. His imposing frame lorded over me before he sat down in the chair directly across from mine. “Hello, Tommy. You remember me; I’m Deputy Bennet?”
I nodded my head. “Yes.”
“Let’s get down to business. You and your friends like meeting late at night and starting fires. You’re really fascinated with fire, aren’t you?”
“It’s not like that. We just—”
“You’re sixteen, but you like to hang around younger kids. Kids you can influence.”
“No,” I mumbled.
“A lot of interesting things have happened since you moved here to Summertime... homicides...arson. Why do you end up at all my crimes scenes?”
“Um, I had some bad luck.” Holy crap, I was becoming like that guy who got struck by lightning seven times. No one trusts that guy. My chest ached the way my stomach felt after binge eating like it was all too much. “Can we just get this over with?” I asked.
“It’s not that simple.” He sounded calm, friendly even. The more he talked, the more freaked out I felt inside. “You see, I want to know everything you did since you moved to Summertime, so don’t leave out a thing.”
I squinted at him as if to ask, “ What ?”
“I’m going to chat with you for hours, and then I’m going to talk to your redheaded friend. I’m going to see if your stories line up.” He threaded his fingers together to emphasize the point.
I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled. Breathing was no longer a natural thing.
“Let’s start from the beginning. How and why did you come to Indiana in the first place?” he asked.
“Okay, sir, I guess it started with the drive here?” I asked, confused. What was he looking for?
“Alright let’s start with the drive,” he decided.
I channeled my inner hard-ass and told that cop only what he needed to hear. This dark story started long before my time, but the memories of my nine months in Summertime, Indiana played in my head like a 4-D movie.



Nine months earlier
My mom’s brother and his wife that we’d never met agreed to take us in. They lived in Indiana, two hours from the city. On the drive over, Isabella sank in the silence. Her oversized brown eyes stared out the car window as the skyline loomed into view. A collection of skyscrapers shot up like a crown. It was the picture on a postcard and not the Chicago I knew. After the high-rises, only asphalt greeted us. The lady, Reese, rambled on about Disney movies with a southern drawl. Yet she lived in the North, so I didn’t get it. She wasn’t beautiful or ugly, but somewhere in between. She had brown hair, pulled back in a peppy ponytail, with a clean and wholesome vibe about her.
My sister blinked at me.
“Isabella likes all those movies,” I answered for her. Being polite was kind of a sickness with me. I don’t know why. It seemed easier, I guess.
“And what do you like, Tommy?” Reese asked.
“I like Chicago,” I replied; my bitterness cutting through my obligation to be polite. Right when she stopped talking, the guy started in.
“What do you like about Chicago?” my uncle, named Holden, asked from the driver’s seat. I had only seen one photo of him before. It was a wrinkled, pissed on school picture that my mom always kept with her. He was about thirteen in the picture and a cool-looking kid. He was taller and more potato-like as a man. Some women might have found him attractive. He could have played the dumb but lovable best friend to the leading man.
I wasn’t sure how to answer him. Getting stoned, I thought, but my own head knew I was lying because I didn’t even do that very often. If I did, it happened on a Friday, or Saturday, with Isabella, safely tucked away for the night. “I like hanging out with my friends.” I didn’t have many friends.
“I’m sure you’ll make new friends, too,” the woman said, still looking in the mirror. “He mainly watches TV,” Isabella said, coming to life.
“Well, we’ve got a TV,” Holden offered up.
They seemed alright. I can’t say I relaxed. The guy was big and my main concern. I’d have to watch Isabella closely. My eyes fixed on the backseat window, watching yellow lines on grey roads, trying my best to zone out. I looked up at the Welcome to Indiana sign and felt a curious pull toward the life we were driving away from. Isabella felt it, too. She started crying, saying she wanted our mom. Reese partly turned, facing the backseat and said, “It’s alright, baby.”
I decided to tell Isabella we would see Mom soon. I told myself this. Yet a second later, I thought we would never see her again. The two thoughts wrestled in my brain.
When Isabella stopped crying, and I stared out the window. We drove by one cornfield after the next, all a steely, faded color. Was there really that much demand for corn? The farther we drove, the more convinced I became that we weren’t ever going back.
We fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Isabella shrieked, when she saw a few horses, almost jumping out of her car seat. I pretended to be happy about it. “That’s cool.”
Reese called out, “Well this is it.” Suddenly, we turned off the expressway. A sign welcoming us to Summertime further confirmed it. It was a place you would pass on the way to somewhere else. We drove past a post office, library, Mabel’s Antiques, Summertime Diner and a DQ. It looked clean and old-fashioned as if we had traveled back in time. Again, we turned away from what little civilization there was and rolled down a long country road, the street sign eerily reading Old Cemetery Road. My stomach moved with the car. Sure enough, I spied a small gated cemetery. A couple of minutes later, we slowed down at a house that had a stand with tomatoes for sale. A redheaded boy about my age sat on a lounge chair as if he worked there. Some smaller kids scampered around the lawn, all of them blond and each cuter than the next.
We pulled into a driveway, the rocks crunching under the wheels. Dust from the pebbles found the energy to drift and collapse on a flower bed. I looked up at a split-level house, composed of yellow siding with a little brick, on a big plot of land. A similar house stood next to this one, but it had a front porch boasting thick